


like sleep to the freezing

by starrydrowse



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Brian May, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Like very briefly - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Poly!Queen Week, Praise Kink, Rimming, Smut, Sub Brian May, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Roger Taylor (Queen), Topping from the Bottom, brian is stressed, deaky is a perfect angel boyfriend, john might have a dick inside him but he sure as hell ain’t a bottom, like very very very light angst, roger is a bit of a prick and then he isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrydrowse/pseuds/starrydrowse
Summary: Roger pulls back, and when Brian opens his eyes to look at him his pupils are blown. He’s beautiful like that, Roger thinks; with his dark eyes and his red, spit-slick lips. Roger gives him a soft smile. “Let us help you relax, yeah?”*Or, Brian is stressed. John and Roger help him relax.





	like sleep to the freezing

**Author's Note:**

> i’m finally back with my contribution to poly!queen week!
> 
> i know it’s like a full week late i had midterms BUT it’s here now and that’s what matters!!!!! i chose the prompt "brian is stressed over a deadline and the boys help him relax" but i decided to go the brian/roger/john route bc i adore this pairing plus i rlly like writing sub!brian w dom!roger and john?? bc uhhhhhhh brians a sub and no i'm not taking constructive criticism
> 
> anyway i hope u enjoy this!!!!!!!!
> 
> title is from the song cherry wine by hozier

“Jesus christ Brian,” Roger snaps. “Would you quit it? You’re shaking the bloody whole room.”

Brian starts, looking up at him with wide eyes. He immediately stops bouncing his leg. 

The kitchen table stops shaking. 

“Sorry.”

Roger rolls his eyes, leaning over his textbook again. Beside him, John glances up at Brian.

Brian is an anxious mess, to put it kindly. He’s hunched over a pile of papers on the kitchen table, writing furiously, stacks of printed research papers and journal articles spread around him. He’s got pages and pages of loose leaf in front of him, each one filled with his scrawled writing, and John watches his eyes scan quickly over the page before he furiously scratches out a sentence and starts writing in a new one. John can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves, he can _see_ it in the tightness of his shoulders and in the darker-than-usual circles under his eyes. And he’s _pale—_ too pale for John’s liking— and John racks his brain trying to remember the last time he’d seen Brian eat. He watches Brian lean back a little in his seat, eyes quickly scanning the page, the eraser end of his pencil between his teeth.

“Brian,” John says quietly.

Brian hums.

“You know you’re gonna be fine right?” John watches him carefully. “Your paper’s not due for another week.”

“Six days,” Brian corrects him distractedly, not even bothering to look up, scribbling something in the margin of the page.

John sighs and chooses to ignore whatever Roger is muttering under his breath. After a few seconds pass in which Brian doesn’t so much as look at him, John shakes his head and turns his attention back to his textbook.

It’s quiet then, the only sounds in the kitchen being the hum of the refrigerator and the scratch of pencils on paper. It’s calm, apart from the tension John thinks he could probably cut with a knife, and after a few minutes he finds himself relaxing a little, finally getting back into his study groove.

Suddenly, the table starts shaking again.

“_Jesus_ Brian,” Roger almost shouts, slamming his textbook closed with a loud thud.

Brian starts, looking up at him wide-eyed, his mouth falling open.

There’s a loud scrape as Roger pushes his chair back from the table. He doesn’t look at either of them as he quickly stacks his notes and gathers them in his arms along with his textbook, before storming out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

Brian looks at John, eyes still wide and startled and a little hurt, and John just sighs, slowly pushing back his own chair.

“That was a bit of an overreaction,” he mutters, and Brian laughs in agreement, a little awkwardly. John stand up and begins to gather his things. “I’m gonna leave you alone to focus yeah?”

Brian nods up at him, a small, tense sort of smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you,” he says softly.

John returns his smile, picking up his armful of books, squeezing Brian’s shoulder and dropping a kiss to the top of his head as he walks past him and into the bedroom.

Roger is lying on the bed on his stomach reading his textbook, and he looks up when he hears the door open. John sighs when he sees him. He shuts the bedroom door.

“That was rude,” he says, setting his books down on the desk with a thud, and Roger grimaces.

“I know.”

“He’s stressed Rog— you know how anxious he gets about these things.” Roger looks away from him, guilty. “You need to apologize later,” John tells him pointedly, and Roger nods.

John takes a seat at the desk and opens his textbook again, starting up where he left off.

It _is_ easier like this, he has to admit. Roger isn’t always a great study partner— he can be almost ridiculously distracting when he wants to (and when he doesn’t want to)— but for now he’s quiet, silently flipping through the pages of his Microbiology textbook and scrawling notes in the margins, and John finds it easy to slip back into focus.

A few hours pass like that, and John is bleary-eyed when he finally sighs and folds the corner of his textbook, shutting it heavily. Roger, having given up on studying at least an hour before, looks up from where he’s hanging off the edge of the bed, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Done?”

John scrubs his eyes, nodding. He blinks and looks around the room. “Whats the time?”

Roger checks his watch. “Coming up on two.”

John frowns. “Brian’s still going at it?”

“Guess so,” Roger sighs, finally sitting up properly. “I’ll go tell him to come to bed.”

The bedroom door creaks loudly when Roger opens it, but Brian doesn’t look up. In fact, it doesn’t look like he’s moved since they’d left him; he’s still hunched over the table, his back to Roger, pouring over his papers and scribbling notes.

Roger’s chest aches a little and he walks up to him slowly, the floorboards squeaking under his weight. Brian starts when Roger puts a hand on his shoulder. He glances up, relaxing once he sees who it is.

“Hey,” he says, turning his attention back to his work.

“Hey,” Roger says back, smoothing a hand along Brian’s back and leaning down to hug him from behind. He hooks his chin over Brian’s shoulder, the fabric of Brian’s jumper soft against his skin. “Sorry for being a prick earlier,” he mumbles. He turns his head to the side, pressing a kiss to Brian’s cheek.

Brian shrugs. “S’okay.”

Roger squeezes him a little tighter, humming as he buries his face in his curls. Brian’s attention is still on his paper, his arm moving as he forcefully scratches out a word. Roger frowns.

“That’s enough for tonight love,” he says gently. “It’s almost two.”

Brian shakes his head. “You guys go on. I’m gonna keep going for a bit I think.”

Roger sighs. “You got a ton of work done tonight Bri. You can get back at it in the morning, yeah? Come on to bed with us.”

Brian shakes his head again. “Roger, I really can’t—”

“Brian.” John’s voice interrupts him, soft but firm, and Brian turns back to see him standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “Come to bed.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and when he doesn’t back down after a moment, Brian sighs.

“Fine,” he mutters.

Roger smiles, kissing his cheek once more before letting go of him so he can tidy his things.

They give him a moment to get ready for bed on his own— they let him have the bathroom without putting up a fight, and they don’t even complain when he takes a full five minutes to brush his teeth. Roger is next, and then John, and when John finally flicks off the bathroom light and makes his way down the hallway back to the bedroom, he pauses in the doorway.

Brian is sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his day clothes, all tense shoulders and white knuckles gripping the edge of the mattress. He’s staring off into space, a crease between his eyebrows, and he doesn’t notice John come in, lost in whatever is going on inside his head. 

Roger is standing by the door, rifling through the top drawer of the dresser looking for something, and he glances up when he sees John in the doorway. John gives him a look, nodding toward Brian, and Roger turns back to look at him. He frowns. He walks over to him slowly, carefully sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, but Brian doesn’t seem to notice him. Roger shoots John a worried look.

John’s frown deepens. He walks up to Brian cautiously, standing in front of him.

“Bri?” It’s said softly but Brian still starts, wide eyes snapping up to John, like John had broken him out of some sort of trance. “You alright?”

Brian nods, swallowing. “Yeah, fine,” he says. Judging by his grimace, it doesn’t sound convincing even to his own ears.

John smiles at him, soft and a little exasperated. He rests his hands on Brian’s shoulders, smoothing them gently down his arms. “You need to relax, love,” he whispers.

Brian swallows again, thick, and he can’t tear his eyes away as John searches his face. And then, slowly, John leans down to kiss him, so gently, a warm hand coming up to hold his jaw.

Brian is still tense against him, white-knuckling the edge of the mattress, kissing him back half-heartedly, distractedly. John hums and angles him to kiss him deeper, more firmly, and after a moment Brian sighs against his lips, his cold hand coming up to cup John’s neck, tentative.

Beside him, Roger smooths a hand up and down Brian’s back, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, trying to ease some of the tension from his aching muscles. He leans in, gently pressing his lips to the exposed skin of Brian’s neck, just below his ear. Brian gasps into John’s mouth, and John takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and taste. Roger mouths up the column of Brian’s throat, nips at the spot near the corner of his jaw, and Brian whines— quiet, but definitely there.

John pulls back, slowly, hand still cupping Brian’s jaw, thumbing over his cheekbone. “Okay?” he asks. His voice is soft and gentle, but there’s something promising, something heated just below the surface that makes Brian’s stomach flip.

“I don’t…” he breaks off, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “If I’m not working I should probably be sleeping… I mean I don’t really have the time to waste—”

“Bri,” Roger interrupts him, hand still warm on the small of his back, and Brian’s head snaps over to look at him. “You need to relax,” he whispers, before he curls a hand around the back of Brian’s neck to pull him in and kiss him firmly. Unlike with John, Brian kisses him back immediately, his resolve beginning to crumble. He sighs into the kiss, lips moving against Roger’s slowly, and he can feel some of the tension starting to melt away.

Roger pulls back, and when Brian opens his eyes to look at him his pupils are blown. He’s beautiful like that, Roger thinks; with his dark eyes and his red, spit-slick lips. Roger gives him a soft smile. “Let us help you relax, yeah?”

Brian chews on his bottom lip, but after a moment, he nods. “Okay.”

Roger grins, searching his eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

Brian smiles at him, small and tense but real. He leans forward to kiss Roger again, chaste. “Yeah.”

Roger glances at John, who smiles and bends to kiss Brian too, just quickly. “Lie down on the bed for us darling,” John whispers.

Roger moves out of the way and lets Brian shift back to settle in the middle of the bed, a slight blush on his cheeks. They’ve been together for a few years now, the three of them, and Brian still manages to feel embarrassed whenever he’s the center of attention like this— even now, when he’s still fully clothed. It fills Roger’s chest with something warm and fond.

Roger climbs over him, a little less than gracefully, collapsing beside him, and he hears John snort from across the room. Roger raises a hand to flip him off at the same time he pulls Brian into a kiss, and when he hears John’s giggle he smiles against Brian’s lips. He kisses Brian more firmly and Brian kisses him back so sweetly, so eagerly, so very _Brian,_ and when Roger bites down gently on his bottom lip Brian opens for him without a second thought. 

He’s still tense, a little stiff against him, and he jumps when he feels John’s hands on his legs. His eyes fly open as he breaks the kiss to look down at John with wide eyes, John gently pushing his legs apart so he can kneel between them on the bed. Brian’s cheeks colour a little pink when he realizes it’s just John, and he glances back at Roger, a little guilty. Roger smiles at him, carefully pushing Brian’s hair back out of his face. Brian looks back at him, doe-eyed. 

“Relax,” Roger murmurs, catching his lips again, while John sets to work slowly undressing him.

John works Brian’s jeans off first, then his shirt, and Brian whines softly when he has to stop kissing Roger for long enough for them to pull his shirt over his head. John takes his sweet time, kissing over every inch of skin as he exposes it, wet and open-mouthed, down his chest and his stomach and his thighs and then over the soft skin just above the waistband of his underwear.

Brian is getting impatient, now, back arching just ever so slightly as he keens into Roger’s mouth, a hand tangled in Roger’s hair to keep him close. When John moves down, mouthing over the outline of Brian’s cock through his underwear, Brian jerks, gasping, his eyes flying open in surprise. Roger shushes him gently, laying a placating hand on his chest.

“Shh baby boy,” Roger whispers. “We’ve got you. We’re gonna take such good care of you honey.”

Brian’s eyes flick over to him, and after a second he nods, a little breathlessly. He gives Roger a small, embarrassed smile, his cheeks pink, lips red and spit-slick. Roger smiles back, reassuring, and leans in to kiss him again.

John hums, his mouth warm on Brian’s cock through the fabric of his boxers. He hooks his fingers in the waistband and Brian lifts his hips to let him pull them down and off, leaving Brian laid out for them on the bed, naked and pale against their light sheets. He’s all long legs and sharp angles but there’s something undeniably soft about him, something vulnerable and delicate about the pink flush creeping down his chest and arch of his back when Roger shifts to get a better angle, kissing him deep and filthy.

_God_ but what a sight the two of them make— making out on the bed like horny teenagers, Brian’s long fingers tangled in Roger’s hair, tightening when Roger pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Brian is getting impatient now, and he rucks Roger’s shirt up his stomach with his free hand until Roger gets the hint, tugging it over his head and then letting Brian pull him into a kiss that has their tongues meeting first. It’s so fucking dirty and it makes heat low pool in John’s stomach, bright and red-hot.

Brian’s only half-hard when John wraps a hand around him, but it doesn’t take long once he sucks the head into his mouth, sinks down and _sucks,_ before Brian is straining, hot and heavy on his tongue.

Roger moves on down to Brian’s neck, pressing his lips to his throat and sucking marks into his skin, and the fucking _sounds_ Brian is making have John moaning around his cock— all soft sighs and whines coaxed from the back of his throat— and John has to reach down and give his own cock a quick squeeze before he goes insane. Brian’s hand settles in John’s hair— not pulling, his fingers slowly stroking through the soft waves, and John looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes as Brian gathers his hair in his hand, lifting it out of his face to watch with half-lidded eyes as John slowly bobs his head, lips stretched wide around his cock.

It’s after John feels the first dull twinges of pain in his jaw that he slowly pulls off, pressing a kiss to the head of Brian’s cock before he curls a hand around him instead, stroking him slowly. Roger lifts his head from Brian’s neck when he hears Brian’s soft whine, Brian’s pale skin now littered with red and purpling marks.

“Bri,” John says softly, and Brian’s eyes flick down to him. “What do you want sweetheart?”

Brian doesn’t answer him right away, worrying his bottom lip as he looks from John to Roger and back to John.

“Honey?” Roger prompts him gently, and Brian’s eyes flick back up to him.

“Rog...” he says finally, thin and breathy. “Can you… will you fuck me?” It comes out quiet, and Brian swallows hard, cheeks flushed red. 

A smile tugs at the corners of John’s lips because _christ_ if Brian isn’t the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. It’s been years since they’d first gotten together, but somehow Brian still manages to feel shy and embarrassed every time he asks for them— as if he doesn’t know that John and Roger both would give him every star in the sky if they could.

John squeezes Brian’s thigh, reassuring. “I think that can be arranged,” he hums. “Right Rog?”

Roger presses another kiss to the corner of Brian’s mouth, pulling back just out of reach when Brian chases it. “Of course baby,” he says softly, thumbing over his jaw. “Deaky, you wanna get him ready for me?”

A sound somewhere between a moan and a whine spills from Brian’s lips, and John grins, already raising himself to his knees between Brian’s legs, reaching toward the bedside table for the lube. “God, yes.”

Roger chuckles at his eagerness but John doesn’t feel the least bit embarrassed— Brian, laid out like this for them, so pliant and willing, never fails to make his head spin and his trousers uncomfortably tight. He glances up and sees Roger kicking off his trousers and so he does the same, undressing in record time, and when John knees back down on the bed Brian can’t tear his eyes away from his cock, rock hard and bobbing between his legs. John curls a hand around himself, stroking himself lazily, moaning softly at the relief of finally getting some sort of stimulation. Brian is still watching him with dark eyes and parted lips, and John smirks.

“Like what you see Bri?”

Brian’s eyes snap up to his face, wide, and he blushes, guilty. John just shakes his head, smiling fondly at him and squeezing his knee reassuringly to let him know it’s okay, before settling between his open legs. Roger is lying next to Brian, pressed up against his side, and he whispers something in his ear that makes him whimper, his lashes fluttering.

There’s a click as John uncaps the lube, pouring out a generous amount to slick his fingers, before he tosses the bottle on the bed beside him, using his clean hand to spread Brian’s legs a little further.

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

The second John presses a finger against his hole, Brian tenses up again.

John frowns. Roger must have felt it too, because he reaches down and wraps his hand loosely around Brian’s cock, stroking him slowly in an effort to distract him. John watches Brian’s face carefully, gently teasing his finger around his opening, before trying to push inside. Brian whimpers quietly. He’s tight like a vice, every muscle in his body tense and strung taught. John adds more lube and tries again, grimacing, pressing in as much as he can, slow and even, but he can barely get the one finger inside him.

He’s in his head again— John can tell from the way he’s gone quiet, from the crease between his eyebrows, his eyes squeezed shut. Roger is still stroking him slowly, no real intent apart from distracting him from the pinch and from whatever the hell is going on inside his head, talking to him softly in that calm, soothing voice. It doesn’t seem to be doing anything to ease the tension, and Roger glances at John, frowning.

As gently as he can, John pulls his finger free. “Turn over for me love,” he tells him. “Hands and knees.” When Brian looks confused, he adds, “Wanna eat you out sweetheart.”

Brian’s breath catches in his throat. He nods, scrambling to turn over and raise himself onto his hands and knees. A moment later, John is kneeling behind him on the bed, gently spreading his cheeks, his breath is hot against his opening. Brian’s face is burning. Roger knows he’s embarrassed, feeling exposed and vulnerable like he does whenever he gets in his head like this, and he smooths a comforting hand down Brian’s back, pressing kisses to his shoulder. 

“You’re so fucking pretty Brian,” he whispers, and he doesn’t miss the soft whine it coaxes from Brian’s throat. “You have no idea how good you look like this darling. So perfect for us.”

John doesn’t waste any time, and he leans in, dragging the flat of his tongue over Brian’s opening. Brian _whines,_ jerking forward, clenching around nothing, and John smirks, before he does it again. Brian buries his face in his arm, moaning high and breathy.

His arms are shaking already, head dropped between his shoulders as John licks over his hole, pressing his tongue against his opening, and John feels like he’s drunk off Brian’s breathless gasps and moans. He slicks his finger and tries again. This time it slides in easily, no resistance, Brian finally pliant and relaxed under him.

It’s so much easier then, Brian opening up so nicely for him, and before long John is pressing a second finger in beside the first. He twists them, scissoring them gently, before he leans in again and licks, tongue pressing inside. Brian cries out, back arching, jerking his hips back. John smirks, curling his fingers and pressing them against Brian’s prostate at the same time he leans back in to lap at his hole between his fingers, and Brian shouts so loudly John is sure the neighbors can hear.

He’s scissoring his fingers, twisting them, getting ready to give him a third, when he feels the bed dip behind him. Roger’s breath fans over his shoulder and then suddenly there are slick fingers pressing against his own entrance. 

John gasps, his grip on Brian’s hip tightening, his own fingers going still inside Brian. When Brian looks back over his shoulder and sees them he moans, low and wrecked, dropping his head back between his shoulders. John draws in a shaky breath, lashes fluttering as Roger slowly presses a finger inside.

“Keep opening him up,” Roger tells him quietly, twisting his finger and quickly deciding that John can take another. John sighs at the stretch when Roger presses in again. He shakes his head a little, trying to clear the fog, and tries to focus again on moving his fingers inside Brian.

Brian whimpers when John starts to move again, his hands tightening in the sheets. John fucks him open on his fingers as carefully as he can, scissoring them inside him, before licking over Brian’s hole between his fingers, his tongue fucking inside at the same time his fingers press against his prostate, and Brian jolts violently, crying out hoarse and wrecked. John can’t stop moaning against him at the feeling of Roger’s fingers inside him, so thick, stretching him so well, and the vibrations make Brian shake so much that his arms give out and he falls, face down on the sheets.

John’s fingers suddenly slip out, but Brian doesn’t even have time to whimper at the loss because then John is spreading his cheeks with both hands before he closes his lips around his hole and _sucks._ Brian jerks sharply, tossing his head, a long, drawn out moan leaves his lips. John points his tongue and fucks in as far as he can reach, and his mouth is so fucking hot and wet, the noises he’s making so fucking sinful, that Brian doesn’t even realize he’s begging until he hears John chuckle breathlessly.

“Listen to you Brian,” John groans, breathless, trying to swallows his own moans as Roger’s fingers move inside him. “So fucking desperate for his cock aren’t you? Just begging to be fucked.” He pushes three fingers back inside him, curling them against his prostate, and Brian sees white for a second. He nods frantically, shamelessly, and he doesn’t care how desperate and needy he seems as long as it means he can get Roger’s cock inside him as fast as humanly possible.

_“Please,”_ he gasps, “please, I want it so much, fuck, I just fucking _need_ it— please Roger, John, _shit—_” He cuts off with a loud whine when John’s tongue fucks into him again, licking between his fingers as deep as he can, and Brian feels like he’s fraying at the edges. “Please,” he whimpers, “please please please, I need it, _please—_”

A moment later, John’s fingers are slipping out. The whimper Brian lets out is loud and embarrassing, his hole clenching around the sudden emptiness, but then John shifts out of the way and suddenly Roger is behind him, a calloused hand squeezing Brian’s hip before three of his own fingers press inside Brian, making sure he’s ready. The pads of Roger’s fingers rub against his prostate and Brian shudders, jerking his hips back.

“Did such a good job Deaky,” Roger praises, pulling his fingers free, and John moans softly somewhere to Brian’s right. “He’s stretched so nicely baby, so open and wet for me.”

_“Roger,”_ Brian whines, and Roger chuckles.

“So fucking eager Brimi,” he croons, a little breathless. “So desperate for my cock, hm?” His hands smooth over Brian’s hips, squeezing, and Brian can’t do anything but whine, rocking back. John soothes a comforting hand down his sweaty back and Brian shudders, arches into it.

“On your back baby,” Roger says finally. “Wanna see the pretty faces you make when I’m buried inside you.”

Someone moans, and Brian can’t tell for the life of him whether it was him or John. He rolls onto his back, plaint and willing, like putty in their hands. John taps his hip, and Brian lifts them up off the bed so John can shove a pillow underneath him.

Roger strokes himself slowly, slicking his cock, and his dark eyes rake over Brian’s body. His free hand goes to Brian’s thigh, gently spreading his legs wider. Brian is biting hard on his bottom lip, looking up at Roger with desperate eyes, and when the blunt head of Roger’s cock finally brushes against his hole, Brian whines so loudly it almost hurts, pushing his hips down, desperate to get him inside. He knows he isn’t being good— any other night that probably would’ve earned him a punishment— but John and Roger are being so good to him, going easy on him, and all Roger does is give him a breathless smile, lining himself up and then settling over him before he’s finally sliding in, slow and measured.

The moan Brian lets out is long and drawn out, his head tipping back on the pillow. His hands twist desperately in the sheets before they fly to Roger’s back, clinging to him desperately, his fingernails digging into Roger’s shoulders as Roger buries his face in the crook of his neck. Roger groans when he bottoms out, a low, filthy sound that makes Brian’s dick twitch against his stomach. He tips his head toward John and whines until John leans in and kisses the sounds from his mouth.

It’s only a moment later that Brian is pushing his hips back, telling Roger to move, and Roger pulls his head back just enough to see Brian’s face when he slowly pulls out most of the way and then fucks back into him, hard. Brian’s moan is high-pitched and broken and it makes Roger shudder, John cursing under his breath beside him— _christ_ but Brian is loud.

Roger finds a rhythm thats fast and hard and exactly what Brian needs. He sits back on his knees, gripping Brian’s hips so tight it’s probably bruising to pull him down onto his cock with each thrust. Brian gasps at the new angle, his mouth falling open as he moans Roger’s name shamelessly, his hands twisting in the sheets above his head. Brian feels like he’s getting lost in it, in how good it feels; he can’t think about anything other than how well he’s being fucked, how perfectly Roger fills him up and nails his prostate with every thrust.

When Roger suddenly stops a minute later, Brian almost sobs. The whine he lets out is embarrassingly loud and needy and he throws an arm over his face, arching his back to try to fuck down onto Roger’s cock, but Roger’s firm grip on his hips won’t let him move. Then there’s movement above him, skin brushing his waist, and Brian forces his eyes open to see John, now on top of him, a knee on either side of his stomach, grinning down at him breathlessly as he reaches behind himself and wraps a slick hand around Brian’s cock.

“Oh _fuck,_” Brian chokes, tossing his head, “jesus _shit_ John—”

“You’re being so good for us baby,” John says, breathy. Roger’s mouth is on his neck, sucking at the spot just below his ear, and John sighs, baring his neck for him. He strokes Brian slowly, slicking him up, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes, and the grin he gives him is as wicked as Brian’s ever seen it. Then— finally— he’s lining himself up and slowly, so slowly, starting to sink down.

Brian’s chest is heaving, hands flying from desperately gripping the sheets to the pillow under his head to John’s thighs. John is tight as anything around him— tight and searingly hot— and he’s breathing heavily when he finally bottoms out, looking down at Brian breathlessly as he shifts his hips. Roger has a hand on John’s waist, bracing him, his mouth still on John’s neck, alternating between wet kisses and gentle nips that leave John sighing, his eyes fluttering closed for a second.

It’s taking everything in Brian not to fuck his hips up— to stay still and let them have their way with him— but neither of them seem to want to fucking _move_ and Brian feels like he’s going insane. He doesn’t notice that he’s whining, thin and needy, until John is running a soothing hand down his side, squeezing his waist.

“Shh,” John croons in that gentle, breathy voice, “come on now honey. That’s it. Let us take care of you, yeah? We’re gonna make you feel so good baby boy.”

Brian whimpers, a high-pitched, breathy sort of thing, and nods quickly. “Please,” he moans, “please sirs I want it so bad, I need it, need to feel you, need you to fuck me, _god_ please fuck me—”

He knows he’s blabbering but he can’t bring himself to care when John is finally rocking up, slowly, and then sinking back down on his cock. Brian _moans,_ long and broken, head thrown back and knuckles white where he grips John’s thighs.

John sets a steady rhythm, riding him slow but so fucking hard and thorough and Brian is dizzy. It’s a moment later that Roger starts to fuck him again, not all that fast, but hard and _deep._ He’s got fucking impeccable timing— they both do, the fucking _rhythm section_ of the band, never missed a single beat in their bloody _lives—_ and he’s purposely thrusting out of time with John, creating an endless fucking feedback loop of pleasure, and Brian feels like he can’t quite take in enough air.

When he forces his eyes to open, blinks through the haze and the dim lamplight, he can see them both moving above him, and he has to focus hard on not coming at the sight of them. John looks like a fucking renaisance painting, all pale skin and long hair draped over his shoulders and sticking to his forehead. His head is tipped back onto Roger’s shoulder, lips parted and eyes closed as he focusing on riding Brian so fucking well, rolling his hips, all tight slick heat around his cock. John isn’t usually loud, not like Brian is— and neither of them even come close to matching Roger on the rare occasions that he bottoms— but now, every time he drops back down on Brian's cock he’s letting out these harsh breaths, thin moans that sound like they’re being punched out of him, and Brian could probably come from the sound of him alone, he thinks. Roger is pressed to John’s back, his face buried in the crook of his neck, grunting and groaning against his sweaty skin every time he fucks into Brian. He has a hand on one of Brian’s thighs and the other on John’s waist, steadying him, and the angle isn’t great but he’s still filling Brian up so well it leaves him breathless, still managing to brush his prostate with every few thrusts, making his toes curl, pulling desperate moans from his throat. It’s almost overwhelming— he’s lightheaded with how fucking _good_ it feels, and he thinks, a little deliriously, that he must be so good, to deserve this, to deserve John and Roger taking care of him so well and making him feel so good.

He’s being _loud,_ he knows it, he can feel in the rawness of his throat and he can hear it, distantly, in the hoarseness of the moans that are torn from the back of his throat, the gasps of their names. He can already feel the heat building tight, low in his stomach, licking up his spine.

“_John,_” he whines, needy and desperate. “Oh, _fuck,_ John, Rog, I— oh _god—_”

John forces his eyes open, grinning down at him breathlessly. “Does it feel good sweetheart?” he pants, biting out a curse when he drops back down on Brian’s cock.

Brian nods frantially. “Yes, _god_ yes, I’m— fuck—”

“You look so fucking pretty like this Bri.” Roger’s voice is low and raspy. “Taking it so well, aren’t you? Being so good for us baby boy, god you feel fucking _incredible—_ always so fucking _tight_ Brian, ‘s like you were made to take my cock.”

Brian sobs, broken, his eyes squeezed shut and his chest heaving, throwing an arm across his face as he focuses on not coming.

“So beautiful honey,” John tells him, breathy. “So perfect for us. Our perfect boy, taking it— _ah—_ taking it so well for us. _Shit_ Brian, you fill me up so well baby, christ, you’re so fucking big, stretching me out so well, making me feel so full—”

“_John,_” Brian gasps, hands desperately gripping his own hair. “Roger, sirs, fuck,” he chokes, “I’m— I don’t know how— _ah—_ how much longer I can last—”

John’s hand squeezes his waist, firm but gentle. “You’re so good for us darling, so perfect,” he croons, and Roger shoots him a breathless smile from behind John’s shoulder. “You can come whenever you need to sweetheart.”

Brian moans so loud it actually hurts, throwing his head to the side when Roger suddenly hits his prostate dead-on. Distantly, he hears Roger’s quiet breath of “close?” against John’s ear, and John’s breathy “uh huh” in response as he starts to ride Brian a little faster. Roger’s grip on John’s hip is tight, helping him lift up on Brian’s cock at the same time he’s fucking into Brian, and it’s all tight fucking heat and white-hot pleasure and it’s overwhelming, it’s too much, and Brian comes so hard he sees white, so hard it makes him dizzy, body strung taught, clenching around Roger.

Muffled, as if through water, he hears Roger curse. He manages to pry his eyes open just in time to see John furiously jerking himself off; in time to see Roger reach around and replace John’s hand with his own, his fist tight around John’s leaking cock until a moment later John goes still and clenches around Brian’s oversensitive cock, coming hard into Roger’s fist and up his own chest. He drops like a puppet with its strings cut, pressing his forehead to Brian’s heaving chest, catching his breath.

Roger had slowed his thrusts, kept them even and shallow as he fucked Brian through his orgasm, and he looks down at Brian now, flushed and desperate, eyes dark.

“Come on,” Brian croaks tightening his leg around Roger’s hip to pull him in. He uses the little energy he has left to lift a shaking hand up to rest in John’s hair, and John hums against his chest.

It doesn’t take Roger long at all then, fucking into him fast and shallow, both hands on Brian’s hips, chasing his orgasm until his rhythm starts to falter. It’s just this side of too much and the oversensitivity makes Brian whimper in the back of his throat, but he clenches purposely around Roger, shuddering at the curse that pulls from him.

“Come on,” he says again. “Wanna feel you.”

“Shit Bri,” Roger groans. “You want me to come inside you baby?”

Brian’s dick twitches valiantly at that, still inside John, and John makes a surprised little noise against Brian’s chest. Brian nods. “Please.”

It’s only a moment later that Roger comes, hips stuttering as he spills inside him with a gasp of what sounds like a mix of both of their names. Brian moan softly at the feeling of Roger’s cock twitching inside him, his warm come filling him up, and after a moment, Roger’s grip on his hips relaxes.

The room is filled with the sounds of them all catching their breath until, finally, John lifts his head from Brian’s chest. The smile he gives him is sleepy, warm and genuine and filled with so much love it takes Brian’s breath away. John kisses him, so gently, and Brian can barely bring himself to open his eyes when John pulls away.

“Do you want a plug baby?” John asks, voice soft.

It makes Brian’s stomach flip, and if he wasn’t so tired he could barely move his limbs he’s sure it would’ve gotten him hard again.

“Yes,” he says hoarsely.

John smile widens, sweet and gap-toothed, and he kisses him again before finally lifting himself off of Brian’s cock. He stretches his legs out for a second, making sure they can support him, before standing and going to their dresser, opening the bottom drawer. Brian’s eyes are so heavy, and he lets them close again, humming when he feels Roger’s warm hands smoothing over his waist and his hips, so gently. 

He doesn’t bother to open them when he feels the bed dip beside him. John and Roger are talking, voices quiet and hushed, but they sound far away and Brian can’t quite make out what they’re saying. Roger is pulling out then, slowly, and Brian can’t hold back his whimper, pouting the slightest bit at the emptiness, his hole clenching, trying to keep Roger’s come inside him. Then someone’s fingers are scooping up what’s started to drip out, pushing it back in the best they can, and then the tip of the plug is brushing against him. Whoever it is eases it in gently, and Brian hums contentedly as it stretches him open again, keeps him full.

He must’ve fallen asleep for a minute, because the next thing he knows is a cool cloth against his skin, wiping over his chest and his stomach, between his legs. He pries his eyes open just enough to see Roger, sitting on the bed beside him, his movements slow and careful as he drags the cloth over his flushed skin. When he sees Brian looking, he smiles.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle.

Brian hums, blinking slowly. “So good,” he murmurs, a lazy sort of smile playing on his lips. His eyelids feel so heavy, and he has to fight to keep them open.

Roger beams at him. “Good,” he says, giving his hip a gentle squeeze. He tosses the damp cloth toward the clothes hamper.

A moment later, Brian gives in and lets his eyes drift shut again. It’s a few minutes later before the bed dips behind him, and then Roger is pressing himself against his back, throwing an arm over his waist, burying his nose in his hair, and Brian hums, content. The bedroom door creaks when John comes back from the bathroom, and then there’s a soft click as the lamp is turned off. John climbs in on Brian’s other side, pulling the comforter up over them all and sighing softly as he curls up into Brian’s chest. The pull of sleep is almost too strong to ignore now, and Brian feels boneless, well fucked, and better than he has in a long, long time. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles into John’s hair, slow and slurred as the exhaustion sets into his bones.

He can feel Roger’s smile against his shoulder, and the arm over his waist squeezes tighter for a second. “We love you Brimi,” he murmurs.

John hums. “So much,” he adds.

Brian’s chest feels warm and fuzzy and he finally gives in to the pull of sleep, letting the darkness swallow him whole. He sleeps better than he has in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on my [tumblr](https://starrydrowse.tumblr.com) :)


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